


Hunt

by coeurvelour



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurvelour/pseuds/coeurvelour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The true prize of the king’s hunt is not the great elk he felled, but the woman waiting in his bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunt

_The true prize of the king’s hunt is not the great elk he felled, but the woman waiting in his bed._

The firelight outlines the gentle curve of a mouth slightly open and eyelids drawn closed, then traces over the dip of waist and swell of hip buried beneath piles of furs. Rickon has returned from the first great hunt of the season with his men, satisfying the wolf in him. But the man inside him longed for this, the sight of his wife in their bed.

He settles on the edge of their bed nearest where she’s curled to study her for a moment, his prize for a month of snow and sweat. Shireen’s face is turned toward the fire as she sleeps, dark lashes resting feather-light against the tops of her cheeks. Her scars are thrown in sharp relief in the glow of the flames.

_(They are perhaps what he loves most about her, these scars, though she still laughs when he says as much. When he first traced a finger along the ridges and bumps, unthinkingly, still more wolf than man, she’d shied away, eyes wide and disbelieving. Now she welcomes his touch, curves toward it as his finger pads skim along the roughness, like a cat seeking attention from its owner.)_

“Mmm, you’re back,” she murmurs, the drowsy drawl of her voice wrapping around him like a dream as she stirs. “How was the hunt?” Shireen stretches languidly against the pillows before propping her head on her hand, as if to settle in for a chat.

His mouth quirks as the pretend nonchalance she displays; his wife knows how play him well after all this time. Shireen smiles back, blue eyes glittering like sapphires in the dark.

“Long. I don’t want to talk about the hunt right now though — not when I’m presented with sight such as this,” Rickon all but growls as reaches for her. He grins at the _“Rickon! You’re freezing!”_ she breathes against his ear as his icy hands come into contact with her warm skin. “Warm me up then, woman,” he tells her, hands roaming over the curves and dips that he missed more than he would care to admit.

Her arms wind around him in response, pulling him closer until their hips are aligned, and she sighs then, a soft puff of air against his neck. Long moments pass, muscled tensed as they grasp each other in the warmth of their bed, striving for more closeness than their bodies will allow. “I missed you, Rickon,” she whispers.

He feels his muscles relax then, feels himself melting into Shireen at the soft, earnest emotion in her voice. She can bear his weight atop her without complaints — indeed, she will _insist_ on having him pressed as close as possible for the next few days.

Rickon cannot find the strength to respond, but there is no need. A single nod against her neck tells her what he wants to say — _yes, I missed you too_.

Any further reunion will have to wait as he gives over to the exhaustion seeping through his bones and the woman in his arms.


End file.
